Watched
by Indigo Lily
Summary: He's hot and she knows it. Cato Katniss


_Hello my precious-es! A huuuuuge thank you to everyone who is (omg) STILL faithfully reading Ab Initio despite my lack of updating – so sorry! I cross my heart and hope to die and swear upon Betelgeuse (my favourite star) that I will update Ab Initio the moment I finish this block of exams – that is, next week._

_But here is something to whet your appetite! A totally unrelated Hunger Games one shot for all those lovely peeps out there – I LOVE YOU! It's Katniss and Cato…because Cato is a sexy beast and I envision lots of stories for him in the future._

_REVIEW guys! And I will be inspired to write more. Maybe ;D Be sure to tell me if you want a sequel, or an Ab Initio update in your reviews too!_

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**Watched**

_The night before the Games._

She watched him, talking to that blonde haired contestant with that stupid name. Shimmer or something. Yes, she was a tribute. Yes, she was here to die. Yes he'd likely be the one who killed her. But who gave a fuck? Certainly not Dimmer or whatever her name was, judging by the open lust in her eyes. She was clearly two seconds away from dropping to her knees and begging him to do her from behind right then and there.

Because he was beautiful. Yes the brute. That Cato.

And any other word wouldn't give justice. The corded danger in his sleek muscles, the wild, predatory spark – even the way he fucking _blinked_, those long, long eyelashes sweeping down and lifting with a heavy lidded gaze. He was bedroom sexy, and what made every female eye follow his every move with hunger…was that _he_ didn't know it.

His eye caught hers' across the room. Intense and scalding. He cocked his head a little, and a little crease formed between his brows, as though he was trying to figure something out. She caught her hand rising. Fingertips aching to smooth that little frown. The force of her need startled her, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. Drowned in his glacial eyes for the longest moment.

Someone brushed against her back as they walked past, and reality came flooding in. She dropped her gaze as nonchalantly as she could in spite of the fire that arced hotly in her veins.

_Fuck,_ if just looking at girls made them drop like flies, who knew when he turned on the charm? Could he charm her enough she'd happily let him kill her? She shivered at the black thought.

No fucking way. She yanked her gaze from him and clenched her fist. She was getting out of this walking nightmare alive – she had to. For the little blonde fairy at home, if for nothing else. Her gaze latched onto Seneca Crane's perfectly tailored back across the room, and her eyes blazed with challenge. _Do you worst, you filthy bastard,_ they seemed to say, _but I'll be getting out of this one alive. _

He shivered as though he'd felt it.

And _that_ was her conviction.

_Rising up in the glass tubes to the Cornucopia._

He'd watched her, last night, that quiet, strange girl from 12. He couldn't quite figure her out – she didn't seem to have any weaknesses – and that set him on edge. How could he win when he didn't know how to defeat her? That eleven she'd scored. What had she done? How did she beat him? What was her skill? A thousand questions swirled, none answered.

The mystery of her dark, elusive eyes hadn't helped much either. He could've sworn something had passed between them last night, hot and dark, rife with…_something_. Yet she'd dismissed it, glancing away where something else had caught her eye.

He'd watched her covertly all night, silent and waifish in the corner, a dark, smouldering ember all the men had been drawn to, yet hesitant to touch, to talk, to burn. There was something magnetic about her, even the way her dark eyes flitting from one tribute to the other, assessing like one would a piece of meat. It was as though they were all already dead, so strong was her need to win. But then, he surmised, thinking of that sister she'd volunteered for, she seemed to be the only one here with something worth living for.

Everyone else was here to die.

He could smell it. Taste it. The desperation, the resignation, the reckless need that had filled them all, to live just one last night, for they died upon the morrow. He himself had been free from that need, and clearly so had she.

He was here to win, and so was she.

One Victor.

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_Review for a quicker update on Ab Initio and let me know if you liked the one shot! I'm not sure yet if I can be tempted to make a sequel for it…_

_Natalily~_


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